With a Prince or a Vagabond
by gidget89
Summary: She paused in the parking lot, tossing her backpack onto the ground with a huff and frowning up at the building. She didn't want to go in. Stupid office. prompt:work; preseries


Disclaimer: I own none of the characters involved, Lie to Me belongs to Fox, etc, etc. No monetary gain is being made by this story.

**with a prince or a vagabond**

She was pouting as she scuffed her shoes; slowly walking the route her Dad had walked her along on the weekend. She didn't see why they _needed_ an office. She liked coming home to see her Dad and Gillian in the kitchen, heads bent over a slew of photos and random scraps of paper at the kitchen table. She liked the fact that Gillian always put a glass of milk and a plate of cookies on the counter with a grin while her Dad pointed out the fact that 'if she didn't eat her supper because she was full of biscuits, Foster, you're fired.'

He never meant it of course – and Gillian knew that because she would just wink at Emily and tell him that Emily's contract stipulated a plate of cookies in return for her administrative duties. Emily was their office assistant (kitchen assistant, really) who would bring her Dad's cell to them when it rang, find pencils for them and kept their paperclips organized neatly in a drawer with all of their other supplies.

She had liked her job. She liked how Dad always smiled – all the time – when Gillian was around. She liked her plate of cookies, and how Gillian never ever yelled at her, even when she was messing things up, or peeking at things she shouldn't be peeking at.

But her stupid Dad had decided they needed a 'proper office'. And so he'd gone out and rented a space, not too far from Emily's school, so she could walk to the office after class every day. He'd shown her the weekend before last. He'd shown her the reception area – a tiny room with grey carpet and cream walls. There was a desk there with a high ledge, and he explained that was where Heidi, their assistant would work.

She'd said nothing, but inside, she'd been fuming. _She_ was their assistant – Gillian always said so – and why did her Dad have to go move into a stupid _office_ now? Their kitchen was fine! They had a big table, and food in case anyone got hungry, a constant supply of coffee – which Emily wasn't allowed to drink, but she _was_ allowed to make cups for them. Part of her assistant's job was to make a cup of coffee for Gillian (two sugar, lots of cream) and a cup of tea for her Dad (no sugar, no milk, just a bit of lemon). It was her _job_. And as her father had shown her the tiny break room with a fridge and microwave, the small office with a walk in closet that he and Gillian would have to share, she'd fought the urge to get mad at him. He was so excited. Plus, she was always getting in trouble for telling off her Dad – he said she talked back too much for her own good, but she didn't really think she did. Besides if she didn't, _he'd_ always get the last word, and she _hated_ that.

They needed the week to decorate properly, and today was the first day she'd been told to walk to the office instead of home after school. And she knew she was going super slow, and she'd probably get in trouble for it, but she figured she could blame it a little bit on not fully knowing the way, or something. She didn't _want_ to go to the new office. There would be no cookies there, no laughter and there would be an assistant there, to do _her_ job.

For all of her slow-down tactics though, Emily eventually arrived at the nondescript building. She paused in the parking lot, tossing her backpack onto the ground with a huff and frowning up at the building. She didn't want to go in. Stupid _office_.

She sat on the concrete step next to her bag, arms on her knees and her shoulders slumped as she stared out into the too-bright Fall sunshine. The door opened behind her with a soft squeak, and she pointedly didn't turn around. It was probably her Dad. And she was mad at him, even if he didn't know it.

A plate of cookies and a glass of milk appeared before her and she turned to see Gillian standing there holding them in her hands with a gentle smile. "Hey Em."

"Hey." Emily responded sullenly, and she frowned, because she wasn't mad at Gillian. Gillian hadn't decided to get an office, that was all her Dad. She sighed heavily, taking the plate and glass from Gillian carefully before offering her a weak smile. "Thanks."

Gillian clambered down and sat on the step next to Emily, her shoulder brushing against hers. She didn't say anything at first, and Emily picked up one of the cookies, nibbling gently. They were chocolate chip – her favourite – but they had some white chocolate chips in them too. That was new. They were softer too – not like the cookies at her house. "These aren't the same." She frowned and Gillian grinned in response. "_Nothing_ is the same." Emily muttered under her breath, whispering even thought she knew Gillian would hear her.

"I made these ones. Figured since it's my job to keep you in cookies now, I'd make you my favourites." Gillian's smile grew wider and she snagged a cookie off of the plate.

"Hey!" Emily wrapped her arm around the plate to guard it while Gillian just laughed and took a bite of her stolen cookie. "You made these? Like, all by yourself?"

"Uh-huh. I like baking. And these are chocolate chocolate chocolate chip cookies."

"Why'd you say it three times?" Emily asked around a slightly full mouth. The cookies really were delicious, warm and so soft.

"Because there's chocolate chips, white chocolate chips-"

"Dad says the term white chocolate is a lie because it's really not chocolate at all – just sugar and crap formed into bars that people _call_ chocolate." Emily took a sip of milk and Gillian laughed out loud.

"Well, it tastes good, doesn't it?"

"Uh-huh. They're great Gillian. Thanks." Her smile was a genuine one this time as she placed the empty plate next to her and leaned into Gillian slightly. Gillian was great – she always smelled sweet, kinda like sugar. And she gave great hugs.

"And dark chocolate chips. Which is good for you. Maybe, in deference to your father, we should call them chocolate chip white lie cookies?"

"I shouldn't have eaten the whole plate."

"Why not, hon?" Emily sighed in response and kicked her school bag lightly.

"Cause they were to pay me, and now you have a new assistant and I shouldn't be eating _her_ cookies." Emily mumbled and frowned before Gillian wrapped her arms around her tightly.

"Is that how it is? You're quitting on us? We hired a receptionist so we don't have to answer the phones any more, but I thought _you_ were still our assistant. In fact, now that you have to commute to work, I was thinking we could raise your salary." Gillian was smiling, Emily could hear it in her voice and she felt her eyes start to tear up in response. They still needed her help, and for some reason, that fact, coupled with Gillian's arms wrapped tightly around her made her feel like crying. She blinked quickly before smiling up at Gillian.

"Dad told me you hired an assistant."

"Pfft, your father barely pays attention to those things. I hired a receptionist. Her name is Heidi, and I think you'll really like her. She's pretty nice, and keeps a jar of twizzlers on her desk. She doesn't even mind sharing them. Plus, I have a surprise for you, if you want to come upstairs and see it." Gillian's arms tightened for just a fraction of a second before she let go and leaned back.

"A surprise? For me?" Emily was bouncing up now, a smile on her face. Gillian had never given her anything before, but after spending so much time with her while she and her Dad started their business, she figured it would be awesome. Everything Gillian did was awesome. She snatched her backpack and wrenched open the door, calling back, "Race you upstairs!" Before taking off up the stairwell. She beat Gillian up to the office, naturally, and walked in, her mouth open in shock. The reception area was painted a light, airy green, and behind the big tall desk, a pretty young woman sat. The wall behind her was lined with simple photos in plain black frames – pictures of people Emily didn't recognize. Above those the words 'The Lightman Group' had been painted in a darker green.

"You won." Gillian's voice was teasing as she walked in behind her. "Heidi, this is Dr. Lightman's daughter, Emily. She's our office assistant. Emily, this is Heidi, our receptionist. Emily missed the wink Gillian sent to Heidi over her head, and instead stuck out her hand for Heidi to shake.

"It's lovely to meet you." Emily spoke politely, holding still for about a minute before whipping around to face Gillian. "It looks sooo much better in here Gillian! I like the cursive on the wall. _I'm_ learning cursive in school now, you know."

"Really? You'll have to write me a letter later." Gillian smiled as she led Emily down the hall, past the tiny break room that was now painted a cheery yellow and into their office. The walls in here were a cream colour, with the wall behind her Dad's desk painted a deep navy. Her Dad was leaned back in his chair, feet up on his desk, which was placed in the center of the room. Gillian's desk was pushed up against it so that they faced each other if they were sitting down.

"I promise I will. Will you write me back?" Emily asked eagerly, jumping up and down when Gillian nodded yes. "Hi, Dad!" She bounced over to her father, who gave her a big hug in greeting.

"Hello, love. How was school today?"

"Okay." Emily shrugged dismissively before looking at the photos on his desk. There was one of her and him, and one of all of them – him, her and her Mom. The last photo was one of her alone – eating cookies at the kitchen counter. Emily could just make out Gillian's face in the background; laughing at her while she ate.

"Did the walk talk long? You're a bit late." He frowned and looked at his watch as if just noticing the time.

"That was my fault – I met Emily outside for a small cookie break before she came in."

"How many biscuits, Foster?" He was glaring at Gillian, but his eyes were smiling and Emily giggled.

"Just a _few_, Cal. School is hard work, you know."

"Speaking of which, do you have any homework young lady?" Her Dad turned his glare on her, but Emily just smiled in return.

"Yup. I have to colour a map – the state I live in should be red, and the states any family lives in should be blue, and the rest should all be brown." She opened her backpack and pulled a slightly crumpled sheet out. "See? It'll be easy."

"Well get on with it then." He teased her and she frowned, looking around.

"I'll just go to the break room, I guess..." She didn't want to leave the room, though. At home Gillian always cleared a spot on the big oak table for her and that way she could do homework and still assist them, if needed.

"Or you could use _your_ office." Gillian spoke gently, and Emily turned to stare at her in surprise.

"_My_ office?"

Gillian was grinning and she moved over to the closet door, opening it and flicking on the light inside. Emily walked over, curious to see what was inside. The walls were painted in here too – a soft lilac, and Emily grinned. There was a small student's desk, with a desk caddy on top filled with pencils, pencil crayons and some pens. A small bookshelf was on the left, filled with children's books, and there was a large green beanbag chair in the right hand corner. "Oh my gosh!" Emily squealed and turned around to hug Gillian, and then her father. "My _own_ office!"

"Well, what kind of employer's would we be if we didn't provide an office for our assistant?" Gillian questioned teasingly, and Emily hugged her just one more time. She grinned at her Dad over Gillian's shoulder, and he smiled back genuinely.

"It's a closet." He pointed out in a teasing voice.

"It's an assistant sized _office_." Gillian grinned over at him.

"I love it!" Emily grabbed her backpack and ran inside, pulling out her homework sheet and sitting down at her desk. She left the door open, and grinned over at her father, whose desk she could see clearly through the doorway. "I'm right here, in case you need anything."

"I don't need anything but you, love." Her Dad's voice was teasing, but Emily grinned because she could see that he was telling her the truth. Emily sighed, and looked around the small closet – _office_ – in content. It was her favourite colour. And that beanbag chair would be perfect to curl up in and read. And she could bring a few toys tomorrow – and keep them there to play with, just in case her Dad and Gillian got busy, and couldn't play with her.

"I still say it's just a bloody closet." Her Dad was leaning over his desk, whispering to Gillian, who Emily assumed had sat in her own seat.

"Not _just_ a closet, Cal." Gillian whispered back in a scolding tone. Emily loved it when Gillian told her Dad off – but she did it in such a nice way, her Dad almost didn't realize it was happening. Emily did though, and she giggled softly to herself.

"She'll be shut up in that thing all the time now, and I'll look like a parent who locks his kid in the closet."

"She'll _love_ it – it's her own place here, Cal. And she deserves that. It'll be magical." Gillian laughed as she replied and the sound was just as soft as her words had been.

"Bloody magical – it's a _closet_." Her Dad was grumbling again, but Emily saw him smother a smile as he glanced over to her. She looked down, pretending she was totally concentrating on colouring. "Thanks, love." He whispered to Gillian again and Emily smiled brightly, looking around her at the four walls that encompassed _her_ office. She couldn't _wait_ to tell her friends. None of _them_ had offices. Or jobs. And she had both.

She put down her pencil crayons and bounced out into their office. "Finished!" She dropped the page on her Dad's desk and he frowned down at it.

"Oh give it to me, yeah? I'm bollocks at geography – especially US geography. Get Foster to check it, eh?"

Emily nodded and picked the sheet up and walked around the desks to hand it to Gillian. She waited while Gillian checked it, before smiling and nodding. "Great job, Em. Maybe now you can work on that letter for me?"

"Sure thing! Oh hey, but first – I heard a joke today at school. It's about construction – wanna hear it?" She grinned at Gillian who smiled in response and nodded.

"Sure, Em. Go on."

"Eh, I'm _working_ on it." Emily grinned, and there was a pause before Gillian's smile grew and grew before it burst into laughter, and she could hear her Dad chuckle.

"That _is_ funny." Gillian beamed and Emily did a little curtsy in response.

"Thank you, thank you – I'll be here all week!"

Gillian gave her a quick hug, squeezing tight and Emily could smell cinnamon and vanilla and she was smiling when Gillian let go and looked down at her. "And thank goodness for that. I don't know if I'd have agreed to be your father's partner if I didn't get such a great assistant out of the deal."

"Oh is that how it is, then, Foster? Only in it for the fringe benefits? I am _deeply_ hurt."

Emily stared at her Dad for a moment before breaking out into a smile. "Liar."

"I'm not lying!" Her Dad protested but Emily shook her head.

"You did the mouth thing. You know – there." She pointed at her father's face and Gillian laughed out loud again.

"Maybe we'll promote you to intern."


End file.
